Smiling my way home...

I LOVE MY GREASECAR! Rosie and I are best friends. Nothing better than transportation that smells like french fries.
Finally, my mother is home from travelling, telling me how much I'd like California if I were to live there next year. I'm sure there can't be as many pugs there as there are in NYC. Then again, I'm a snob who prefers residing upon the throne of human laps rather than mingling with the other members of the canine class at the dog park... So who cares?

This is us having a fight because I don't want to wear my damn seat belt.

I just had a nice big shit-eating grin on my face. Uh, literally. God, I love shit. Better than rocks, or even dirt, but epecially cat shit. Like the kind I managed to scoop up between my little rat teeth while Becca walked me, unsuspecting... Who wants a big shitty kiss?